Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
T he shop in Edinburgh was part of a picturesque row of brightly painted buildings. The young woman who greeted them had gold-rimmed round glasses that seemed far too large for her face, but in a way that was clearly a fashion choice. She had dark red hair twisted up in a bun and was wearing pink dungarees with a floral-print blouse underneath and chunky mustard-yellow boots. She introduced herself as Mona and said that they could go to the café a few doors up to chat. ‘I’ve not seen a soul all day and I’m going stir-crazy in this place.’
They waited for Mona to flip the ‘closed’ sign and lock up, and then they walked the short distance to the Sunflower Café.
Luke went to the counter with their drinks order while Esme followed Mona to a table. It was covered in newspapers and Mona cleared them away, putting them back on a wall rack with a practised efficiency that Esme found very impressive.
‘Thank you for speaking to us,’ Esme said, as they got settled.
‘No problem. Happy to help.’ Mona shook her head. ‘Booksellers have got to stick together, right?’
Esme wasn’t sure if the woman was asking a question, but she guessed not, as Mona had already moved onto a new subject. She spoke about the café they were in and how it was a ‘lifesaver’ and she meant this literally. She launched into a long story about a woman having a heart attack after finishing her soup and the staff behind the counter recognised that was what was happening even though she wasn’t clutching her arm or her chest or anything.
Esme nodded. ‘Women’s symptoms are often different.’
‘Yeah,’ Mona said enthusiastically. ‘But it’s not what we see in the media, is it? It’s always old white dudes clutching their chests and falling over in films and stuff.’
‘Umm,’ Luke began, but Mona was on a roll.
‘So this woman, right? Older lady but not old old. She’s finished her soup. It was their spicy Thai veggie one which, to be fair, has a wee kick to it, but no one’s blaming the soup. At least not now. So the wummin’s finished and she’s saying her back hurts and she just doesnae feel right.’
Mona’s Scottish accent was coming out more thickly the more excited she became. Esme found she was leaning in closer, swept up in the tale.
‘See Abi there?’ Mona twisted in her seat and pointed to the androgynous-looking person serving behind the counter. ‘They’re on it. Say straight away that she doesnae look right, either. And they call an ambo straight away, no messing. Says ‘I think this woman is having a heart attack’ and the woman starts arguing ‘am not, I feel fine, hen, dinnae make a fuss’ and then she’s out.’
‘Out?’
‘Deid to the world. Well, no deid deid. Unconscious. She slips over and is on the floor.’
‘Awful,’ Esme said, drawn in. She could imagine how scary that would be. Out in your life, not in a hospital setting or anywhere you might reasonably expect that kind of emergency.
‘Did the ambulance arrive in time?’ Luke asked.
‘I was useless,’ Mona said cheerfully. ‘I froze. I think I said ‘are you all right?’ like the wummin was gonnae sit up and answer me.’
Abi called across the café. ‘I thought you were going to pass out and all, you were that white.’
‘But they come over,’ Mona stabbed a finger in Abi’s direction, ‘cool as anything and rolls her over and checks her pulse and her breathing and then just gets on top of her and starts chest compressions. Just like that.’
‘Well done,’ Esme said to Abi. ‘That must have been really scary.’
Abi shrugged, looking a bit pink. Esme had the impression that this wasn’t the first time Mona had told the story.
‘The ambo arrived and they took her away. She’s fine, isn’t she?’ Mona looked to Abi, who nodded.
‘Had a stent put in and home again.’
‘It was last week,’ Abi said, still seeming a bit embarrassed.
They sat for a moment, sipping their drinks and contemplating the story. When Esme felt enough time had passed to give the anecdote its fair airing, she looked at Luke for moral support.
He put his espresso cup down. ‘Is it okay to ask you about the bookshop?’
‘Yeah. ‘Course. Sorry, I do go on sometimes. I get distracted by something and whoosh that’s my heid on it. Can’t help myself until I’ve talked it out.’
‘No worries,’ Luke said, smiling with a gentleness that made Esme want to lean over and hug him. Which wasn’t a feeling she usually had, so it was disconcerting. Her crush seemed only to be getting worse and that was a problem. She might not still be battling Ryan’s toxic litany running through her conscious mind, but she wasn’t at all certain he wasn’t still lurking somewhere in the depths. And she had no wish to find out.
‘And you’ve met a few weird clients?’ Luke was saying.
Esme pulled her focus away from her warm and squishy feelings and back to the interrogation. Conversation.
‘Customers.’ Mona confirmed. ‘Loads of them. I’ve been running the place for Conrad since he went on his trip. Sabbatical thing.’
She had explained on the phone that Conrad, who owned Campbell and Sons, had upped and left the business three months earlier, saying that he needed an extended break. Mona, who had only been working there part-time for a year before that had found herself with a full-time managerial-and-customer-service position.
‘We get all sorts. Casual readers and big-spender collectors. They like the antique stuff and the first editions. The map collection, too. That’s a big hit with the scholars. And then there’s the people bringing in books for us to buy. Weird stuff.’
‘What sort of weird?’ Luke asked.
Mona shrugged. Her loquaciousness suddenly seeming to desert her.
‘Witchcraft? Satanism? Sex stuff?’ Esme began listing things that Mona might class as ‘weird’.
‘No, not porn. I don’t think, anyway. Old books.’ Mona held her hands up, indicating size. ‘Big ones. Like from a wizard film.’
‘Or a museum,’ Luke said.
‘I suppose,’ Mona said, not sounding sure. ‘I’m not really supposed to handle the special stock. They can be really old.’
‘What did he do with them?’
Mona sat forward. ‘I can tell you one thing. He took some of them home. He made a right fuss about not touching them and how valuable and rare et cetera, and then he would stroll out of there at closing with a couple in a Tesco bag.’
Esme could feel Luke looking at her, but she kept her eyes on Mona. She was thinking about Fraser from the Dundee bookshop. He had burned alive in his own home. Was that because he had taken some books home? And one of them had been hexed?
‘Book people really love books,’ Luke was saying. ‘You don’t run a bookshop in this economic climate without being a big reader.’
‘Aye, it was just he made such a fuss about being careful.’
‘You never heard of anything in a book hurting anyone?’
Mona frowned at Esme as if she had sprouted a second head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Toxins on the cover, maybe? Someone reacting badly? We were sent a book recently that wasn’t safe to touch without gloves.’ This was the story she and Luke had agreed upon on their way to the city. ‘Toxins’ sounded more plausible than ‘cursed’.
‘I have to wear white gloves when I’m handling the really old stuff because oils in the skin can ruin the leather or make the pages disintegrate. But that’s me damaging the books, not the other way around. They have to be packed really carefully when they’re sent out, too.’
‘You sell online?’
Mona looked at Luke as if he was stupid. ‘I put the customer database in. Before I arrived, Conrad was using a notebook. Writing things down by hand.’ These last words as if Conrad had been carving accounts details into stone using ancient cuneiform.
‘Was that still kept at the shop?’
‘The ledger? Dunno.’
Luke sank back in his seat, but Esme thought he was missing the obvious. ‘The database? It’s in the cloud, I assume?’
‘Yeah,’ Mona bent down and pulled a slim laptop from her bag. ‘I can show you it if you like. Well. Not customer details, of course, they’re covered by data privacy, but I can show you the system if you’re interested.’ She glanced at Luke. ‘And if you’re in the market, I can do an install freelance.’
‘Ours are in there, though? My shop’s address, I mean. I can see that?’
Mona was concentrating on her screen, but she nodded. ‘Yeah. I guess that’s okay.’
The door to the café opened and a couple of women came in. One had a sleeping baby in a sling.
‘Got it,’ Mona said and turned the laptop around to show Luke and Esme.
The database had tabs along the bottom, but the screen was filled with an open window showing a single entry. It gave Esme a prickling sensation in her palms to see Unholy Island’s address in black and white type on a stranger’s screen.
‘You said you’ve worked there for a year or so?’
Mona nodded. ‘Owner wanted to step back. He hadn’t been so well, I think, and wanted to take more time. He’s in New Zealand, now, I think I said on the phone…’
‘You did,’ Luke confirmed.
‘I’ve got a note that you’re interested in magical texts. What’s that? Like Wiccan stuff?’ Mona didn’t pause to let them answer. ‘I’m not great at the sourcing, I’ll admit. The folk who want to offload stuff are irritating as hell. They want wads of cash and don’t seem to understand the margins in this business.’ She raised an eyebrow at Luke. ‘You get it, right?’
‘Do you hear from the other shops on this list?’ Luke angled his phone so that Mona could see the file.
‘Mebbe. Probably. Conrad dealt with that stuff.’
‘But you’re running the place now,’ Esme said, trying to sound encouraging.
‘Until I’ve saved up enough for my own trip,’ Mona said.
‘Have you had any deliveries from a shop in York? The Shambles Emporium?’
‘Mebbe,’ Mona said again. She sat back. ‘I’ll be honest with you guys, I’ve kind of been a wee bit overwhelmed. Since Conrad took off. There have been a few stock deliveries and I just bunged them out the back.’
‘Do you mind if we take a look?’ Esme asked.
‘I was expecting something from the York shop and wondered if it got sent to you by mistake,’ Luke said. He smiled winningly at Mona, who straightened up in response.
‘You’re welcome to take a look.’ She looked at her watch and sighed. ‘I should probably get back there, anyway.’
Campbell & Sons was a traditional second-hand bookshop with floor to ceiling shelves and narrow corridors formed from multiple bookcases. It also clearly carried high-end, antiquarian stock, as the shelves were distinctly lacking in blockbuster thrillers or brightly covered rom-coms. Instead, the shelves were lined with clothbound spines, the kind that you saw in the libraries of stately homes, oversized art books with colourful plates, and an impressive collection of antique maps.
Luke would have happily spent a few hours browsing, but he stayed on mission. He wasn’t sure if Mona would baulk at letting a complete stranger look through the shop’s deliveries, but he was relieved that she hadn’t unpacked anything recently. The hexed book had been sent from the Shambles Emporium and that meant there was a possibility – however small – that something dangerous might have been sent here, as well.
‘Conrad deserved a wee break, that’s true. He’s been running this place for sixty years, but I wish he had given me some notice. He just upped and went. Didn’t even say goodbye, just left me a note saying that I was in charge while he was away and that I could leave the place closed on my days off. That means it’s only open half the week and it’s no like the margins are exactly huge to start with.’
Sixty years. Luke imagined a frail old man opening a book like the one that had floored him. The guy would be dead in hours. Maybe minutes.
Mona led the way through to the back of the shop. There was a flimsy-looking door marked ‘staff’ and she pushed it open to reveal a large cupboard. There was metal shelving along one wall and a narrow table at the back and, at one time, you could probably have got a couple of people comfortably inside the remaining space. Now, however, it was filled with packaging materials and unopened boxes.
‘Conrad handled all of this. I wasn’t even supposed to come in here. I don’t know what he wants me to do now. He hasn’t said and I haven’t exactly been badgering him for extra work.’
‘Fair enough,’ Luke said. He was scanning the visible address labels on the first boxes. ‘I assume the ones closest will be the most recent? Do you mind if I…’
‘Knock yourself out,’ Mona said.
Esme asked Mona about living in Edinburgh, leading her a few steps away from the open cupboard, so that Luke could look at the boxes.
It didn’t take long. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said, appearing with a cardboard box the size of a decent dictionary. He had ripped open the plastic bag stuck to the outside of the package and was holding it up as evidence. ‘This was sent from the Shambles two weeks ago. It’s got the contents listed, along with the value.’
He passed the paper to Mona, who glanced at it quickly. ‘And you want it?’ She read the title of the book. ‘A Complete History of the Scottish Witch Trials, 1590-1662’ and then raised her eyes to Esme. ‘Jeezy peeps. That’s gonnae be a depressing read.’
Esme nodded her agreement, but her focus was on Luke. He looked shaken, and she understood how he felt. Neither of them had truly expected to find another delivery from the bookshop in York. Especially now that they knew it had burned down. She wondered if they ought to tell Mona about the fire.
‘It’s got twenty-five quid listed as the value,’ Mona said, still looking at the delivery note. ‘I don’t know if that was what Conrad had agreed to pay or whether he’s already transferred the money. I can look through the accounts…’
‘Don’t go to any trouble,’ Luke said. ‘How about I give you forty quid for it now? Cash.’
Mona’s eyes lit up. ‘Works for me.’
Luke handed over two twenties and they made to leave.
‘You don’t want to open the box and check it?’ Mona hesitated with the cash in her hand, as if suddenly realising how oddly they were behaving.
‘Happy to take the chance,’ Luke said cheerfully, hustling toward the door.
‘He likes to live dangerously,’ Esme said. ‘Thanks so much for your time. We’ll let you get on.’
As Mona walked with them to the front of the shop, Esme asked: ‘What will happen to this place if you go?’
Mona shrugged. ‘I don’t know whether he cares anymore.’
‘Conrad is very hands off, then. Now he’s on his big trip?’
‘Haven’t heard a thing,’ Mona said cheerfully enough.
Leaving the old bookshop felt like breaking the surface of a warm pool, the cold air slapping her skin. Esme looked at the cobbled street that curved away, the brightly painted shop fronts and the wide pavement filled with so many people. She was dizzy with the varying faces and bodies, so many strangers, flowing around and past and away from her all at once. A sea without a shore. A sea without the ordering regularity of waves and tide. Her head spun a little, and she dropped her gaze to the grey slabs of the pavement.
A touch on her arm brought her back to reality. Luke’s face was peering down from his great height and the sight of something known and safe cleared her head. The buzzing receded and she managed a smile.
‘Are you all right?’
She realised it wasn’t the first time he had spoken. ‘Just dizzy for a second.’ She gestured with one hand, her fingers fluttering.
His smile widened in understanding, enthusiasm radiating. ‘It’s a bit different to the island.’ He inhaled deeply, as if trying to assimilate the city into himself.
Esme’s stomach was cold and hard with the realisation that he loved this place. He loved this bustle and noise, these tall buildings, these crowds.
On the way home, Esme stared out of the window and wondered whether they had done enough to warn Mona. She felt protective of the young woman, and a little envious of her seemingly boundless energy. Had Esme ever been that vibrant? Mona couldn’t be more than six or seven years younger than Esme, but she made her feel tired and old. Had Ryan sucked up her life force? Made her old before her time?
‘Are you okay?’
Luke was driving the way he had on the way up to Edinburgh: eyes on the road and with focused attention. Esme liked this about him. She didn’t know if he was always a conscientious driver, but either way she appreciated it. Safety was an underrated quality in her opinion.
‘I can hear you thinking,’ he said now, hitting the stick to make the wipers work faster. The noise seemed louder than it should have done and Esme was suddenly aware of the small space they were occupying. With the rain pouring down the glass and the half-light of the early dusk. It was dark in the car and it felt like a cocoon for the two of them. Inside in the warm and dry, with the noise of the wipers and the heater blowing hot air onto their feet. ‘Just wondering what we can do next.’
He rolled his shoulders as if they felt stiff. ‘I’m looking forward to a beer and a bath.’
‘With bubbles?’ She had meant to be teasing, but now she was imagining a naked Luke lying in a scented bubble bath, and that wasn’t helpful for making conversation. Or sense. Thanking all the goddesses it was dark in the car and Luke wouldn’t see her flaming face even if he did look away from the road, Esme tried to steer the conversation onto firmer ground. ‘I meant about the hexed book. We know the Shambles Bookshop sent something to the Edinburgh shop as well as us. I mean, it might not be hexed, but it’s a bit of a coincidence.’
‘We’ll check it,’ Esme said. ‘Carefully.’
‘It does point us straight back to the Shambles Bookshop. Which is gone. Along with the owner.’ He frowned. ‘It feels like we need to find out more about him and what he had going on. But we can’t exactly phone up the police and ask for information.’
‘A clue,’ Esme agreed. ‘We could use one of those.’
‘If we assume that whoever sent the book knows what they are doing, then it follows they know about magic stuff. Do you know any other witches?’
‘I didn’t know they existed until I arrived on the island. And since then, I haven’t been a social butterfly.’
‘Butterflies are overrated,’ he said. ‘Although it would be handy now, if you had an address book full of likely suspects.’
‘This is very surreal,’ Esme mused. ‘Suspects. Clues.’
‘Magic,’ Luke said, and she could see the corners of his mouth lift.
She took his point. There were more surreal things in their lives on a daily basis. ‘Somehow, I accept everything when I’m home. It’s just reality. It feels a bit weird seen from this perspective.’
‘You think the wards have an effect on our brains?’
‘I don’t know. Or just the atmosphere of the island. Or maybe it’s because it’s all there. Our minds don’t bother worrying about it being odd or unusual because it’s happening. I don’t know if that makes any sense…’
‘It does. There would be no point freaking out because it is what it is.’ The wipers’ rhythmic movement was soothing. ‘It is what it is,’ he repeated, as if testing whether the phrase worked.
‘And now we’re here, in…’ Esme peered ahead looking for a handy sign, ‘wherever we are, it’s hitting me how weird the island truly is.’
‘Northumberland,’ Luke said. ‘We crossed the border ten minutes ago.’
Esme checked the time. ‘We’re cutting it fine for the causeway.’ It occurred to her that if they missed the window, they would be stuck on the mainland for the night. The thought of having to find a bed-and-breakfast, of their day trip being forcibly extended, held a pleasant charge of excitement.
‘We’ll make it,’ Luke said, sounding determined and confident.
Esme’s hopes that he might have also been harbouring secret hopes of being stuck out for longer deflated.